Changing of the Guard
by MBLite
Summary: Not R yet, but you know little violent curse lovin' me. Short Ch 2 & 3 are up, it's turning antiXavier, and it'll eventually be Rietro.
1. Baseball Cards

AN:  Okay, I know I'm supposed to be tying up all the loose ends over in "Strange Mercy," but I don't bleedin' feel like it right now, so here's a new one instead.  In my screwy timeline, this story assumes the existence of Tag but does not depend on "How I Spent My Summer Vacation" or "Strange Mercy."  In fact, I don't think I'll mention any of the stuff that went on in the crossovers at all.  So, coupling wise, we've got Rogue and Pietro, as well as Lance and Kitty.  I think that's it, anything else will be revealed as time goes on.  This story takes place post-Hex Factor, at the end of the summer (does that timeline add up?  Probably not- someone shoulda graduated by now, but well, there's not much I can do about that.  Maybe I'll do a graduation fic after my own, who knows.)  So: here we go.

            Xavier pulled his scarf tighter around his shoulders against the cold breeze.  Mid-August had brought with it a startling cold snap.  As the weeks went on and the temperature never managed to climb above sixty, it had become clear that summer had ended and autumn arrived early to Bayville.  The students at his academy had sobered up accordingly, being less rambunctious than usual and more attentive to himself and the other teachers there.  Even Kurt and Evan, who usually brought so much chaos to the place, seemed subdued by the weather.  Xavier checked his watch and glared.

            "I didn't think you'd show up," a smooth voice purred from the darkness.  Xavier rotated his chair to turn toward the voice.

            "You're late."

            "Only fashionably so."

            "You're the one that asked for this meeting," he replied sourly.  "I said I'd be here."

            Mystique stepped out of the darkness.

            "Don't whine Charles, it's unbecoming.  I'm here now."

            "Lovely.  Which begs the question, why did you ask me to meet you?"

            Mystique looked older to Charles than she usually appeared, and her face lacked her characteristic smirk.

            "I have something you want, Charles.  And you have something I need."

            Xavier narrowed his eyes.

            "You have nothing I want Mystique.  In the future, if you ask me to meet you in the middle of the night, in the middle of a cold snap, have something to bring to the bargaining table."

            Xavier wheeled all of six feet away before Mystique's next words stopped him in his tracks:

            "Wanda.  Maximoff."

            Xavier paused, his back turned.

            "I'm listening," he said.  

            "You'd been working on her for month, Charles, and you've gotten nowhere.  I had her for a few days and she tore your band of girlscouts apart."

            "She is nothing which my X-Men cannot handle, in time," Xavier replied stiffly.  Mystique stepped closer to his chair.

            "Time isn't something we have a lot of, Charles, neither you nor I.  I will give you Wanda Maximoff, Charles."

            "And what do you get out of this little bargain?"

            Mystique took a deep breath.

            "I get my family back.  Nightcrawler, his image inducer as well as anything I'd need to fix it, and Rogue.  In exchange, you get the Scarlet Witch, the most powerful mutant in existence, next to Magneto himself."

            "What makes you think that your 'children' would come back to you Mystique, even if I gave them the opportunity?" Xavier replied after a long pause.

            "You could make them forget that they were ever anywhere else," Mystique answered.  "Wanda Maximoff hates her father, Charles.  And you realize that he will be back."

            Xavier said nothing for a long while.  He knew he should go with his impulse of righteous indignation, inform Mystique that he would _never _treat the children like so many baseball cards, let alone do the unthinkable, change their memories to suit her whims.  But his fight was not just about his personal ethics.  It was about the fate of all mutant kind, as well as the fate of humanity.  If Wanda Maximoff followed her father's anti-human doctrine, no matter how much she hated the man himself, she could devastate human-mutant relations.  

            "You ask two of mine and offer me one of yours, Mystique?  You're giving me Magneto's daughter.  Why not throw in his son?" Xavier asked, in a half joking tone.  

            "You know damned well that Wanda's powers are worth Nightcrawler's and Rogue's combined.  Besides, your lovely mansion would not last long if you tried to force Pietro and Wanda to live in it together.  She hates her brother almost as much as she hates her father."

            "You're asking for far more than you think, Mystique.  I'd have to change thousands of minds.  All the X-Men, the Brotherhood, the entire population of that damned high school."

            "You've done it before."

            Xavier fell silent again as he considered this.  She was right, he had done it before, and succeeded admirably.  

            "Meet me back here on Thursday at the same time," Xavier said finally.  "I'll have made my decision by then."

            He might have looked relaxed, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, but Pietro was edgy.  Mystique, for the past several days, had been oddly lenient about allowing Pietro to speak on the phone to Rogue.  The elder mutant had been oddly lenient about everything.  She still demanded that the house be kept clean and had arranged for materials so that they might make repairs.  However, all her orders had been spoken, not roared or shouted.  It was almost like she was waiting for something.  

            If this alone were not enough, Pietro had to be on constant guard against his sister.  While she had forgiven him enough not to attempt to kill him, he was still the object of her constant fury, which was more often than not expressed in a very physical fashion.  He'd been able to hide most of the damage from Rogue, and explain away the rest, but he doubted he could fool her for long.  The last thing Pietro wanted to see was a direct confrontation between Rogue and Wanda.  Team on team, the two seemed to ignore each other, but if Rogue found out that Wanda was hurting him, she would no doubt retaliate.  _That's my girl, _Pietro thought.  The only problem?  If Wanda and Rogue went head to head, only one would come out of it alive, and much as Pietro loved his girlfriend and respected her strength, he knew his sister's powers all too well.

            "Shouldn't you be doing something useful?"  

            Pietro sat bolt upright, letting out a sigh of relief as he saw Mystique in his doorway.  

            "Name it, boss lady.  I could use a task."

            Mystique arched a red eyebrow, narrowing her eyes at him.

            "Stand up," she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.  Pietro did so, cautiously.  Mystique looked him up and down sternly.  "Take off your shirt.

            "Um… don't get me wrong, you're really attractive-"

            "Don't be an idiot.  Shirt, now."  Pietro sighed and obeyed.  His torso was covered in so many bruises in various stages of healing that they nearly formed a camouflage pattern.  Mystique didn't touch him, which Pietro appreciated, she just shifted her weight to her heels and crossed her arms.

            "Pietro-"

            "You can't make a big deal outta this, boss, it'll be more trouble than it's worth," Pietro said quickly.

            "Who?" she asked.  Pietro said nothing.  "Was it Lance?" she asked.  Pietro burst out laughing.

            "Rocky _likes _me, boss.  Come on.  Who in this house likes me least?"

            "Of course," Mystique nodded.  "Why don't you stop her?"

            Pietro sat back down on his bed and sighed.  

            "If I stopped her physically, her temper would flare up and she'd hit me with her powers, and we all know how that'd go.  So I just let her use me as a punching bag until she burns herself out.  It's not like she's gonna break a bone."

            Mystique nodded grimly.

            "Please don't say anything," he entreated.  

            "No, of course not."  

            She opened the door and looked over her shoulder at him.

            "It won't be a problem much longer," she said, and shut the door.

Post note:  Ooh, will Mystique's plan work?  Will Chuckles take her up on her offer?  Will I get my hands on a vanilla coke by the end of the month?  Will I like it?  Who knows.  Thanks to anyone who reads this, and thanks to anyone who reviews it.  Preferably after reading it, but who can say.


	2. Nighttime Company

AN: Okay, a short transition chapter before things really get underway.  

            Mystique lay in bed that night, smoking a cigarette.  Lance had told her a thousand times that she shouldn't, before she'd vanished.  

            "Whatever," he'd grumble upon giving up.  "Don't blame me when you burn to death while the rest of us asphyxiate from smoke inhalation."

            "I won't," she replied one time.  "I'll blame Todd."

            Lance had looked at her for a moment before he burst out laughing, nearly doubling over.  She'd smiled at him dryly as he wiped his eyes.  When he finally composed himself, he stepped over to her and kissed her chastely on the cheek, catching her cigarette as it fell out of her mouth when she opened it in surprise, then stubbing it out in the ashtray.

            "See?"  Lance said.  "Dangerous.  Night, Mystique."

            Mystique smirked around her cigarette as she fondly recalled that night.  Sometimes the brats weren't so bad.  She rode them too hard, she wasn't stupid, she knew that.  But maybe, when everything was said and done- _if _everything was ever said and done- when they all got to relax, she'd tell them that.  _Maybe you brats weren't so bad after all.  _She put out her cigarette and turned off the light, closing her eyes.

            The minute she fell asleep she wished she hadn't.

            "Good evening, Mystique."  

            She sat bolt upright in her bed, or thought she did.  Charles was sitting on the foot of it, and Charles out of his chair was a sure sign that he was visiting in a dream.

            "You couldn't wait till Thursday?" she snapped.  

            "I accept your offer," Xavier said quickly.  "I will give you Rogue and Kurt.  You will in turn deliver Wanda Maximoff.  No one is ever to know about this."

            "Fair enough.  What about Logan?  You can't change his memory."

            "I'll take care of Logan.  I'm working on everyone's minds now.  I've rendered Wanda completely unconscious.  Bring her to the institute, and I'll hand over Kurt and Rogue."

            "I'll be there in ten minutes," Mystique said, knowing Xavier would wake her.  The telepath looked at her, his eyes flicking around the room in her mind, unusually on edge.

            "I am deadly serious Mystique.  If you breathe a word to anyone, I will bring your whole world down on you."

            "Don't be melodramatic, Charles.  I'm getting what I want more than anything else in this world.  It is not in my best interests to double cross you.  But if you try to go back on our deal, I will find a way to destroy you," Mystique replied, just before waking up.

            Xavier stared out the window, feeling utterly sick.  He'd managed to get the unconscious Rogue and Kurt downstairs with the aid of some of the med bots.  The two young mutants now lay in an induced deep sleep.  They looked very peaceful, and very innocent, and Xavier knew Mystique would be there any minute to take them away.  Kurt's image inducer was off, Rogue's face was free of makeup, and Xavier was starting to have second thoughts, looking at the two children sleeping.  Then he saw the headlights coming up the driveway, and the time for doubt was over.  

            Mystique had taken great care to make sure Wanda was warm enough.  The girl, like Rogue and Kurt, was soundly asleep.  She saw Xavier at the entrance as she pulled up in the Jeep, and her heartbeat accelerated as she caught sight of her son's tail, hanging off a wheeled gurney, and Rogue's gloved hand resting on her chest.  She took a deep breath, parking the car and gathering Wanda in her arms.

            "This is for the best, kid," she said quietly to the unconscious Scarlet Witch.  "I may not think too highly of Charles, but he can do more for you now than I can."  If Wanda heard, she gave no sign, and Mystique walked up the stairs to face Xavier in silence.

            "Set her down," Xavier said.  Mystique glared at him and walked past him into the mansion, laying Wanda down on a sofa in the foyer.  She gave the girl a last look before returning to take back her children.  

            "There had better not be any tricks here, Mystique," Xavier growled.  

            "You're like a broken record," she sighed, sounding very tired.  She reached into the pocket of her jacket and tossed a note card onto his lap.  "I'll throw in that for free, Charles.  Agatha's been training Wanda."

            "I haven't changed her memories-" Xavier began, scowling.

            "She won't care.  Her only concern is helping Wanda learn to separate her powers and her anger," Mystique replied, scooping up Kurt and placing him in the back seat of the jeep, buckling him in.  Xavier sat silently as Mystique returned for Rogue.

            "This is really for the best," he said finally.  Mystique placed Rogue in the front passenger seat, buckling in the sleeping girl and gently brushing a strand of white hair out of her face.  

            "I don't need any convincing, Charles.  And if you're trying to convince yourself, do it on your own time," she replied, pulling out a duffel bag filled with Wanda's things.  "I don't suppose you had the presence of mind to gather the children's' belongings," she said, more a statement than a question.  Xavier looked at her blankly, and Mystique rolled her eyes.  

            "I'll do it myself," she snapped, "Lead the way, oh great one."

            _Just like the damned Brotherhood, _Mystique thought as Xavier led her to Rogue and Kurt's rooms.  _If you want something done right, you'd best do it your damned self._

AN:  Okay, seriously, there will be more on the way.  If you're a fan of Rietro- and you know I am- there's a whooole bunch of 'em around now, but I'd like to point at one I'm really enjoying:  http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=646130, it's called "I turn on the light and there's…" and it's by Kelly.  (I have no idea if this link will actually work.  Cut and paste, you'll live.)  So anyway, thanks to anyone who's reading and/or reviewing.  For reference, the way this is gonna go is anti-Xavier, but I don't think I'm gonna have him be flat out evil.  We'll see how it goes.  Right.  Off to write more.  


	3. The Breakfast Club

AN: Okay, another tiny chapter, but it's four in the damned morning, I'm personally impressed that I can spell "X-Men" let alone type anything coherent.  This is less angsty and more lovey as the effects of Mystique and Xavier's deal hit the Brotherhood house.  Oh, I can't type accents, not about to start tryin' now.  You've seen the show, you know what they sound like.  Go forth!  Or third… or second… sleep time is now.  

            At 9:30, alarms went off in rooms all over the Brotherhood house, and each was immediately silenced.  

            In Pietro's room, his hand flicked out and retracted so quickly that it seemed the alarm clock had turned off itself.

            In Lance's room, the clock was wrenched out of the wall and hurled at the wall, cracking open and clattering to the pile of parts on the floor that had once been its predecessors.

            In Freddy's room, the large boy simply rolled over, the alarm clock muffled by his bulk.

            In Todd's room, the alarm clock short circuited as a strange, viscous slimed oozed slowly into its components.

            In Rogue and Kurt's room, a blue fuzzy tail lashed the alarm clock off the bedside table from the bottom bunk while a pale hand reached out for her gloves from the top.  Had they still been at Xavier's, they would have been awake for over four hours already, getting their asses kicked in the danger room by Logan.  Thus, they had the peculiar feeling of having slept in, even though they both thought of nine thirty as early as hell.  Rogue yawned and stretched, then hung down from the top of the bed to look at Kurt.

            "Rock paper scissors?" she asked.

            "Loser wakes her?" Kurt replied.

            "Winner starts breakfast," Rogue nodded, raising her fist.  "One, two, three, shoot."

            "Gah, not again," Kurt moaned, as Rogue made scissors while his three fingers had formed paper."

            "Look at it this way," Rogue said, hopping down from the top bunk.  "Maybe someday the rest of the boys'll get up early enough to wake her."

            "Yeah right," Kurt replied before porting out of the room and directly onto Mystique.  Gold met gold as Mystique's eyes snapped open.  Kurt expected her to growl, shot, or swat at him, but instead she just lay there, eyes wide.  Kurt cocked his head to one side.

            "Are you all right?" he asked.  She said nothing, afraid to move, lest her son vanish from in front of her like a mirage.  "Did you have a bad dream, Mama?"

             Mystique finally reached up and touched his face, incredulous.  

"I did, Kurt,"  she whispered.  He beamed and leaned forward, hugging her. 

"Don't worry, it's over now.  Rogue's making breakfast if you want to come down."

"Bah.  Don't be stupid.  We'll start training when I feel like waking up and not a moment before," Mystique replied, trying hard to sound gruff.  "Make sure Freddy leaves me some pancakes or I'll have all your heads."

Kurt saluted her with a silly smile on his face and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Is she coming down?" Rogue asked, not looking up from her pancakes.  

"Of course not.  We'll start training when-"

"-I feel like waking up and not a moment before," Rogue finished with him, flipping the first set of pancakes onto a plate and handing them to Kurt.  The elf started to pour syrup on them, only to find it flew into his face with a strong gust of wind.

Pietro didn't know why, but he for some reason was kind of surprised to see Rogue.  He shook it off as he snaked his arms around her waist, nibbling on her neck like only he could.  She reached back and ruffled his hair with her non-spatula hand.

"Mornin' babe," she said.

"You're so sexy first thing in the morning, stripes," he purred into her neck.  

"Um, hello, some people are trying to eat here!" Kurt snapped, wetting a paper towel in the sink to dab at his fur.

"Who says I'm not?" Pietro replied, looking over his shoulder at Kurt before nipping at Rogue's earlobe and growling.  

"If you don't knock it off, Speedy, you're getting the burnt ones," Rogue replied, unable to keep a smile of her face.  Pietro obediently sat down at the table, resting his chin on his hand and sighing as he watched Rogue cook.

"Kurt, how do you survive having a sister that hot?" Pietro asked dreamily.  

"Dramamine," Kurt replied dryly, finally getting the last of the syrup out of his fur and digging into his pancakes.  "Pass the orange juice."


End file.
